Page 82 of The Cowboy and the Stray

Sloane gathered up her things, jaw tight. “We’ll leave at noon.” She marched out without another word. Noah trailed after, looking like he’d just been grounded for life.

Tess waited until they were gone, then sagged into a kitchen chair. She folded her arms across her chest. “What if he gets here before you’re ready?”

“Then we improvise.”

I meant it as a joke, but Tess didn’t laugh.

After lunch, Tess found me in the tack room, sorting rounds into boxes. “You said you’d keep teaching me to shoot.”

I nodded and handed her the Ruger I’d put on my hip right after we’d gotten home. “It’s lighter than the last one. Less kick.”

She turned it over in her hands, memorizing the grip. “How do I not shake?”

“Practice.”

She rolled her eyes. “Very helpful.”

We walked out behind the barn, far enough from the house that the noise wouldn’t startle the horses, though they were mostly desensitized to it. I set up a row of old cans on a fence rail, then drew a line in the dirt with my boot.

“Stand here,” I said. “Aim at the red one. Squeeze, don’t pull.”

She lined up and fired. The shot went high, knocking splinters off the top of the fence post.

“Again.”

She shot five more times, never hit the can, but her grip got steadier. I stood behind her, adjusting her arms. “Lower your elbows. Relax your wrist.”

“Easy for you to say. I don’t get it, I did so well before.” She took a moment and tried again.

“The stakes are higher now,” I said quietly.

On the seventh shot, she clipped the top of the can and sent it spinning.

“Hell yes,” Tess said, grinning for the first time all day.

I reloaded for her. “Again. This time, imagine the can is moving.”

She squinted, then fired, missing. “Damn it.”

“You’ll get it. Next time, try not to flinch.”

She glared at me. “Are you even allowed to be this patient?”

“Nope. Don’t tell anyone.”

Ash appeared from behind the hay bales, holding a pair of binoculars. “Nice shot, Twitchy.”

Tess didn’t look up. “Thanks.”

“Next time, try aiming where the can’s gonna be, not where it is. Like leading a bird.”

Tess grumbled but did as told. On the next shot, she hit the can dead center. It bounced once, then landed in the weeds.

She grinned, then dropped her hands to her knees. “Okay, I need a break. I’m sweating like a pig.”

I checked the back of her neck. It was soaked through with sweat. The sun was a hammer, and even in the shade of the barn, it pressed.

“Go cool off,” I said. “Barn’s empty.”